


go where you go

by mistrali



Category: Harry Potter - J.K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, F/F, Grief, Illness, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27517591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistrali/pseuds/mistrali
Summary: After Voldemort’s defeat, Parvati copes.Title from Taylor Swift’s ‘Lover’.
Relationships: Parvati Patil/Lavender Brown
Comments: 15
Kudos: 11
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2020





	go where you go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hmweasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmweasley/gifts).



> Many thanks to embraidery for their wonderful and very helpful brainstorm for part of this fic!
> 
> And just in case it needs saying, I vehemently disagree with JKR’s parallel between HIV/AIDS and lycanthropy, as well as her views on trans people.

May 3-4, 1998

The day after Harry kills Voldemort, Parvati Apparates home with the rest of the seventh-years. She wants to stay and help rebuild, so she can take her mind off the crevasse of her seventh year. But it’s Dad, usually a soft touch for both the twins, who gets a steely look in his eyes and absolutely forbids her to go; and when Professor McGonagall announces the school will be closed, she resigns herself to staying.

The first thing she does is unpack the Divination dream journal and matching ink pot, quill and ink Lavender gave her for Christmas. The cover is ethically-sourced Welsh Green-hide charmed periwinkle, Parvati’s favourite colour, and decorated with an adorable picture of a Niffler whose snout rains gold dust whenever she touches it.

She bursts into tears at the sight of Lavender’s inscription on the front page, in her distinctive lilac cursive: “Happy happy Christmas to my strawberry fudge rabbit Parv-Parv!! you’ve kept me sane all through this scary, weird and wild year, from our adventures in unicorn sightings to secret DA meetings in the RoR. From our late nights cramming for Astronomy, to talking each other into getting smashed on Butterbeer & firewhisky with Seamus & the rest of the DA at our unofficial Hogsmeade weekends. You’d also make a wicked graffiti artist, in case the magizoologist/Seer thing doesn’t work out. I guess vandalising the Carrows’ stuff didn’t really help against You-Know-Who as much as the DA. But it sure made us feel better ;) You’re the best gf anyone could ask for & I’m so lucky to have you. Here’s to a better 1998/99 & an amazing graduation xxx. Love forever and ever, Lav-Lav.”

* * *

_Alecto’s Avada Kedavras have faded, but Parvati’s still running. She sprints down an endless Underground platform, then up and up and up the escalators. The Beauxbatons carriage hovers in the distance, about to ascend. The horses champ, impatient to be gone. Parvati knows she’ll never make it in time. Yet the palomino Abraxans are so close she can smell the sweat on their flanks from a long day’s flight (but what are days and nights here, Persephone, away from the sun and moon?). The aroma of Madam Puddifoot’s chocolate, peach and pear tarte tatin mingles with eucalyptus and burning sage: it’s what Parvati smelled when she brewed Amortentia, but how could it be here if there’s not a Potions lab in sight?_

_From the driver’s seat, Lavender’s calling out, silent words that are lost in the rising wind from the horses’ wings._

_”Dear me. You two make quite the pair,” drawls a cool voice, beside her ear. “Flora and Fauna.”_

_She turns to look. There’s something not quite right about the guard’s uniform. His features shift and change under the tall policeman’s cap.  
_

_”You’ll have to wait for the train, I’m afraid.”_

” _Am I...” she asks, and the figure nods_.

_"‘Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me’. Very astute of you, Miss Patil.”  
_

_"That means Lavender’s dead, too. But I thought we’d be together, when...”  
_

_“Miss Patil, use your head. How can love stand against Me?”_

_Death waves a hand, and Lavender’s obscured by a cloudburst of jacaranda-coloured fog._

” _Wait!”_

Parvati wakes with a start. It’s 4am and the sky’s greenish with stormclouds; the moon floats conch-like in the sky, waxing towards bulbous.

Merlin, what was that dream? A portent or a harmless figment of her imagination? She’s never missed anyone like she misses Lavender: with acid despair that feels almost like a Dementor. Half of her is still back at St Mungo’s, watching Lavender surrounded by hospital elves and healers. If only she could dream-weave like Uagadou wixen, instead of using the vague symbolism in the Hogwarts curriculum, she could be in Lavender’s mind. She’d give Lavender all her hopes for their future: a beautiful wedding, a mixture of English and Gujarati wizarding traditions. Long walks in the outdoors, hunting for wood-nymphs’ and water-sprites’ lairs. Nights sleeping under the stars. A house in the Welsh countryside, styled to perfection by Lavender in both their favourite colours. Balls, conferences, galas and society dinners. Lavender with her very own high fashion and makeup boutique in Muggle Paris or wizarding Seoul, or working in interior design on the famous Rue Boateng in wizarding Ghana; Parvati studying magical creatures all over the world.  
  
When her attempts to get back to sleep yield only further tossing, turning and tears, Parvati pads downstairs. She unshrinks her tea set, Silences it and brews herself a pot of Maanvi Kaki’s most potent masala chai. Giving the ginger, cardamom, cinnamon and cloves a good pounding with the mortar and pestle makes her feel a bit more herself, especially when she imagines Fenrir Greyback’s face on each pile of spices.

She sits in Padma’s favourite reading nook and sips the tea until it’s drained to the dregs. Then she opens up her well-loved copy of Oyama Ichika's _Brewing the Future: Tesseomancy from Meiji to Malaysia_.

The tea leaves signify either permanent revival (lotus bud) or total collapse (the volcano). Padma would tease her that you don’t need to be a Seer to work that one out. Professor Trelawney would say the future has yet to reveal itself to her Inner Eye. But Parvati, ever the consummate Gryffindor, prefers to call it a challenge.

* * *

_Dear Miss Patil,_

_We are pleased to inform you that Miss Lavender Brown has been discharged from the Dai Llewellyn Ward at St Mungo’s Hospital as of 30/05/1998, and is living at a secure address abroad. As per your request, please find a two-way international Portkey enclosed. To activate the Portkey, give three short taps of your wand and say the password. Note that as the property is protected by a Fidelius Charm, you will need the pass-phrase in advance; this, and the Portkey password, will be delivered to you via dream magic within 24 hours of the receipt of this letter. For additional security, we require a saliva sample from each visitor. All visitors must pass a standard house-elf scan upon arrival._

_For full terms and conditions, please see the attached parchment._

_Thank you for subscribing to our Portkey service. We hope you have a pleasant stay._

_Yours cordially,_

_Chengguang Liu  
_ _Assistant to the Minister for Security_

The Ministry Portkey drops her in a valley nestled in the Gorski mountains. Normally, Parvati would be enchanted by the forests and the lake, which look like a magizoologist’s haven. The fifteen-minute walk from the Portkey drop-off point to the safe house yields sightings of a herd of rainbow-crested elk and a pair of moon-frogs cavorting in a waterfall. In the last of the afternoon light, the sight of the timid creatures glowing in courtship-dance should be an idyllic, restful experience. But today all Parvati’s delight in exploration has evaporated, smoked away by resentment. The ‘safe house’, along with the Scrimgeour Ministry’s tracking spell, is a prison: meant to keep werewolves in and others out as effectively as Azkaban. Kingsley, for all his promises to canvass the Wizengamot on the issue, is still an unknown quantity. The Order of the Phoenix swept werewolves’ rights under the rug for decades before Voldemort was even a blip on the horizon. Harry, too, is so closely tied to Dumbledore that Parvati half-expects the same “All’s well that ends well” attitude from him.

Maybe someone will invent a cheaper version of Wolfsbane, or a way to source the ingredients. But Parvati’s under no illusions about werewolves’ standing in the magical community. Most magizoologists’ conferences and journals consider them _creatures._ Every fifth issue of _Martin Miggs_ has Martin running afoul of a feral beast, gore dripping from its fangs and claws, in the throes of transformation at the full moon. Parvati remembers her own childhood dreams of becoming an Auror and stalking down errant vampires and werewolves through starlit alleyways, armed with only a wand and a silver knife. Her girlfriend is now that despised thing: a werewolf in so-called respectable society, an aberration to Light magic, a parasite.

* * *

The house elf, Elsie, covers her mouth with one corner of her floral pillowcase. “Elsie is very sorry, but Mistress Lavvy is taking her potions and sleeping,” she says, in a hush. “Healer says not to wake her up. She says wolf-magic is keeping witches and wizards awake, and Dreamless potions is making them sleep.” She indicates the bedroom, huge brown eyes so earnest and bright that Parvati feels like some sort of co-conspirator. 

Elsie insists on escorting Parvati into the kitchen for supper, and plies her with glass after glass of pumpkin spice juice and Butterbeer. “Is Mistress being sick from any foods?” she squeaks. It takes Parvati a second to work out that she’s talking about allergies. “Um… I’m vegetarian. But really, I’m honestly not hungry, you don’t need to —" 

Elsie’s ears droop and she glares at Parvati rather reproachfully. “What is Mistress Lavvy saying if she knows Elsie is being rude to guests?” 

With a sigh, Parvati relents. Beaming, Elsie sets an enormous serving of vegetable lasagne, swimming in gruyere and bechamel, on Parvati’s plate. The ‘sides’ of Greek salad and fresh buttered bread are enough to feed four people. Parvati’s stomach is in knots from joy and impatience, but she manages a few spoonfuls of salad and a quarter of the lasagne.

Then the kitchen doorknob turns.

“Miss Lavvy has a visitor!” says the elf, beaming from ear to ear and almost bouncing up and down in her eagerness. 

Parvati barely hears her. She’s already rushed forward, flung her arms around Lavender, and kissed her through a haze of euphoria that feels as if she’s taken a love potion. Lavender’s pulse is a will-o-the-wisp. Parvati’s heart, in contrast, is trying to jackhammer its way out of her chest. 

She buries her face in Lavender’s hair and breathes in the scent of her rose shampoo, while Lavender holds her close. “Merlin,” she whispers at last, sniffling, and cups Lavender’s face in her hands. “I’m never letting you go again, you know that?” The last time Parvati saw her, Lavender was in a coma, under stasis spells, and fighting for her life at St Mungo’s. Now here she is - ashen, yes, in pain, yes, but blessedly alive and awake. Lavender’s eyes are shining; her grin has lit up her face and it makes her look prettier than ever. Morgana and Circe, if Parvati could bottle that smile and keep it, she would. She’d trade all the unicorn sightings in the world for this.

**Author's Note:**

> 1) According to JKR’s Wizarding World site, Uagadou students receive their admission letters using dream magic.
> 
> 2) Kaki is (or so Google tells me) Gujarati for paternal aunt.
> 
> 3) “Because I could not stop for Death” is by Emily Dickinson.


End file.
